What Lies Before Us
by Perhapsormaybe
Summary: A quick Valentine's story, that starts on a certain rainy day a few years back, when a sad, lonely little girl first meets an optimistic, kind boy. Going through to a certain Valentine's day after a certain rooftop incident...Arnold/Helga
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hey there, hi there. Anyways, I'm a huge Hey Arnold! fan and I've been getting all nostalgic about it these days. So, here's a little one shot that has more than a little likely been done already. But I love little kids, I adored the "Helga On the Couch" episode and I'm _still_ annoyed that the odds of getting the Jungle movie are so slim. Enjoy, constructive criticism is appreciated, flames don't really irk me if you think they're necessary and positive reviews are just dandy. Plus, hey, it's still not _quite_ Valentine's day in my time zone, so technically it's in time for your Valentine's viewing pleasure…reading pleasure?

"You ready for your first day, Shortman?" Phil asked, casting a glance at the backseat to make sure his grandson was buckled into his car seat. Arnold nodded enthusiastically. "Got your jacket?" Arnold held it up. "Umbrella?" Arnold once more produced the item in question. "And remember, most important of all…never eat raspberries…whoa, kiddo, we got to get you there soon…" Phil clutched at his stomach momentarily. "No...wait...false alarm. I gotta tell Pookie to stop letting me eat those. Ah, here we are!"

"Grandpa…that girl…" Arnold gestured towards a small girl, walking alone in the rain. She had to have been around his own age. She was caked in mud, and trembling from the cold and rain, the look on her face a jumble of anger and sadness.

"Well that can't be right…where are her parents?" Phil glanced around. He parked his Packard and helped Arnold out of the car and into his rain coat, constantly glancing back at the girl to make sure no harm had come to her.

The moment Arnold had his rain coat on he grabbed the umbrella and sprinted for the little girl, opening it as he ran. Phil chuckled to himself, but opted not to tease Arnold about it tonight. He was tempted, but it looked like this little girl could use an act of kindness.

The girl didn't notice Arnold at first. Her realization that someone was there came when she noticed she could no longer feel the rain on her head. She glanced up and saw the umbrella covering her, and then to the side to see the short boy with a strangely shaped head and blonde hair. "Hi…nice bow."

"Huh?" the girl looked stunned, and it seemed for a moment that she didn't realize that Arnold was addressing her.

"I like your bow. Because it's pink like your pants."

Arnold lead the girl inside. Phil watched them a moment longer, proud of his grandson for his kind action, and knowing immediately what the look the girl had given Arnold meant… "Oof…stupid raspberries…" he muttered, snapping back from his thoughts and getting back into his car to drive home as fast as he could.

* * *

It wasn't that many years later when Arnold came home complaining that the same sweet little girl he'd helped out in the rain had started bullying him. It had started not long after they'd first met, but lately it had gotten worse. Phil listened to Arnold's complaints, but most of the time he opted for silence. Arnold simply wasn't ready to listen to the truth. At his age, it seemed too crazy.

But one day, Phil managed to overhear a conversation Arnold and Gerald were having one time when the latter was staying over the night.

Now of course he hadn't _meant _to eavesdrop. But the boys were being a little loud and Phil let his curiosity get the better of him, and the door was not closed all the way. He peered in to the room as he listened.

"…Are you kidding me, man?" Gerald asked.

"No. I kind of wish I were," Arnold sighed and fell back into his bed. "I try not to think about it, and I'm asking you not to laugh about it…"

"Helga G. Pataki likes you…_like _likes you…Not sure if that's funny or just plain scary," Gerald gave a shudder.

"It's more than that," Arnold flipped over so that he was still on the bed but could make eye contact with Gerald. "She said she _loved _me. And something about poetry and shrines and…I don't know, it all got jumbled. It just came out of nowhere and I was distracted with the whole neighborhood being in trouble…"

"So what did you tell her?"

"Huh?"

"You know…you're a nice guy, so I'm just wondering how you put the 'you're crazy and I'm not interested' speech."

The conversation was making Arnold squirm. He moved back into a seated position, then laid down again, and then gave up on that and began to pace the length of his room.

It was enough for Gerald to figure it out. "You didn't tell her you weren't interested!" he accused. "Are you interested?"

"What? No! …I don't know. With everything going on I just couldn't stop to think and Helga's always acted like she hates me, so I never thought about her _that _way…I asked her if maybe she got caught up in the heat of the moment and the kiss was just you know…adrenaline…"

"She kissed you?" Gerald asked, bewildered. "Shouldn't that have been the first thing you mentioned?!"

"Didn't seem that important…"

"Not that important?" Gerald repeated. "This whole thing is like a trip to bizzaro land! Helga G. Pataki is in _love _with you. Are you just gonna pretend she never said anything and hope it goes away?"

"I thought about doing that," Arnold admitted. "But it just seemed…mean."

"Hold up…if she loves you and now you know that she loves you, why is she still calling you 'football head' and throwing spitballs at you and yelling at you?"

"I don't know," Arnold admitted. "Uhm…do you remember what she was like in preschool?"

"Yeah," Gerald snorted. "The exact same way she is now."

"No," Arnold insisted. "She wasn't. She was really nice, and kinda …quiet the first few days. Like she was shy, like she didn't know how to be around people."

"She _still _shouldn't be around people if you ask me," Gerald muttered.

"It's like something happened to make her mean. But…I think that nice side is still in her."

"You are one crazy kid, Arnold…"

"No, I'm not," Arnold pushed on, "she helped us save the neighborhood, even though her dad was supposed to get a lot of money off it being sold…"

"All right, that was a really great thing of her to do," Gerald conceded, "But she is _still _being mean to you, man. And now you're talking like you do have feelings for her or something."

"Well, I like her," Arnold started. "But like-like…or love…I don't know. I'm only nine. I just wish she'd show her nicer side more often. Then maybe I could tell for sure. All I really know right now is that she's not as horrible as she pretends to be."

Phil gave an awkward cough to announce his presence before pushing his way into the room. "Hey there, Shortman, you two all right?"

"Yeah, Grandpa, we're fine, thanks."

"I was just thinking…about that angry blonde friend of yours? Y'know, Valentine's is coming up, and I bet she'd like to get something…"

Arnold frowned. "Grandpa, were you listening in?"

"Well, not so much listening in as I was…uh…screening?" Arnold raised an eyebrow. "Oh, all right, I was eavesdropping. I'll leave you alone, but just so you know, I'm leaving some money on the downstairs table, beside the answering machine…in case you want to get her something. Make sure you get to it before Oskar does…" With that, Phil closed the door.

The next morning, sure enough, the money was missing from where he'd left it. "Oskar! You better not have taken Arnold's valentine money!" He yelled upstairs.

"Money? What money, I did not take any money," Oskar whined back. "But if you want to give me some, I could maybe pay you back…"

"Oh, shut up, you deadbeat!"

* * *

"I can not believe you are doing this…" Gerald muttered. "You don't even know if you like her!"

"I know, but…I guess I could just call it a thank you for helping save the neighborhood…"

"It's a _Valentine's_ gift, Arnold. Nobody's going to see it as a thank you. Not Helga, not the class…heck, not even you or me! Especially when you got her a teddy bear and a rose."

"Maybe I should have gone for something more platonic seeming?" Arnold mused.

"You read too much," Gerald muttered.

The two boarded the bus moments later, Arnold shifting the gift to try to hide it behind his jacket. "Excuse me, Arnold…I'm gonna go sit with Phoebe…"

"Gerald! We always sit together…"

"Val-en-tine's Day," Gerald enunciated, taking his place beside the small Asian girl, who smiled at him and shyly took his hand.

When the bus reached Helga's stop, Arnold ducked down behind his seat, holding his breath. She scanned the bus, apparently looking for something or someone, but she gave up and took the seat in front of him, pulling a pink journal out of her backpack as she went. She plopped down and started writing.

Against his better judgment, Arnold leaned forward and watched her words fill the page, her writing hurried and frantic.

__

Oh, that this would have been the first day for us.

That Cupid would have released his full quiver on you,

So that you might feel as I do.

I look 'round and do not see your form,

Shall I not see you on this sainted day of lovers'?

My heart is torn -

Do you remember the words I spoke,

The question lingers and hovers,

Echoing through my mind

Whatever came next, Arnold didn't get to see it. Brainy had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his loud breathing distracting Helga from finishing her poem. She grunted her exasperation before backhanding him in the face. Brainy fell to the bus floor momentarily, then got up, apparently unharmed, and went to take his seat.

Arnold was amazed at Helga's gift. The poetry sounded familiar, quite like the poems Mr. Simmons often read aloud to the class (always anonymously). Arnold found himself wondering if those poems were Helga's work as well. He felt guilty for reading over her shoulder, but he wondered if she would have ever shown him her work of her own volition.

"Football head!" He was snapped from his thoughts. "When did you get on the bus? I thought you were home sick…Not that I'd care. I mean, criminy, the day's all lovey-dovey enough without you and how mushy _you_ are…"

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold said simply, making sure his book bag blocked her view of the Valentine's gift he'd bought. When the bus finally stopped at P.S. 118, he made a mad dash for the door, and beat Helga to Mr. Simmon's class. He laid her gift out carefully, then took his seat.

Helga came in just before the bell, and slid into her seat without noticing the teddy bear at first. She stared at it in shock when she finally did see it, and then gave an accusing glance at Brainy, who shook his head and muttered a quick "It wasn't me."

Helga found the card and tore it open eagerly.

__

Helga,

Thanks. I hope you have a good Valentine's day. We'll talk about everything…later. I promise. I'm not ready just yet, though. I'm sorry.

~Arnold

Helga reread the note a few times, absorbing the message. Arnold still wasn't ready to talk about what she'd confessed. That was all right with her, she still couldn't believe she'd told him, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear his response yet.

__

Just like Arnold…

she thought to herself. _Even if I'm still being a jerk to him, he's still so kind_ she sighed dreamily. 

"Who's that from?" Phoebe whispered as soon as Mr. Simmon's back was turned. "Not…" she glanced towards Arnold. Helga nodded. "So then, does he…?"

"I don't know," Helga admitted.

"But he got you something for Valentine's day. That must mean something…"

"He said he needs more time…" Helga examined the rose. "Do me a favor, Phoebe, just forget about this, okay? If anybody asks you…I don't know, say Miriam and Bob sent me this."

"Forgetting," Phoebe sighed.

* * *

"Hey, Hair Boy!" It was the end of the day, and Arnold just wanted to make it home. There had been a lot of guessing at who had gotten Helga her gift, and he had to admit he was kind of worried someone would figure out that he'd been behind it. Helga had kept her silence, only muttering something about parents when Rhonda had continued to push.

"Oh, hey, Helga…" Arnold glanced at the ground. He was starting to wish he hadn't signed the card.

"Criminy, Football Head," she fell to the ground and scattered her books all about her. Arnold watched bewildered, before realizing it was meant to trick anyone who saw them talking into thinking the two had merely run into each other and that Helga was (as was her typical fashion) yelling at him for it. When the last student had finally cleared the hallway, Helga started gathering her things together.

"Here, let me help…" Arnold leaned down and started picking up scraps of paper. He paused when he noticed that they were all poems. "You know…you really are a great writer…"

"I…oh. Thanks," Helga muttered. "Look, I just wanted to say thanks for the bear and the rose. It was nice of you," she caught sight of Harold coming down the hall. "You are so annoying, Arnold! I mean, really, just give me my stuff back and go away!" she snatched her papers out of Arnold's hands before turning around and marching off towards the exit. Right before she reached it, she glanced back, her look apologetic.

Arnold sighed, and glanced down at the floor. If this was how Helga was always going to act when others were around…maybe Arnold would never get to know that nicer side of her, that caused her to help save neighborhoods and wrote poetry…

But that's when he noticed it. Helga had accidentally (or possibly even intentionally) left a poem behind. He scanned it over quickly

__

Midnight brings disquieted sleep,

I can not seem to banish you from my thoughts

The thoughts are troubled, the fear runs deep

Would you accept me as I truly am?

Arnold glanced around before folding the paper up and putting it in his pocket. "I guess we'll have to wait and see," he said, in answer to the poem's last question.

****

Author's note:

…This was originally going to be a drabble. Then I just kept writing. The two poems are things I whipped up on the spot…I used to be gifted at poetry (or at least my English teachers always thought so) but I'm not sure these are up to par (…and all the harder, because as crazy as Helga could be her poetry was usually fantastic). Thank you very much for reading. 


	2. Invitation

**Author's note: **Well, this was going to be a one shot but a few people put it on alert, so apparently there's interest in more and hey, I'm having fun writing for Hey Arnold! So I figured…why not continue it? While "Dear Arnold: Letters from Hillwood" examines life after The Jungle movie, this is more a story written as though it never happened (which...seeing as we didn't get it ...umm...yeah...)

"You are one bold kid, Arnold," Gerald said when Arnold explained the chance meeting he'd had with Helga in the hallway at the end of the day. "To even consider her that way…you're brave."

"But she writes poetry…" Arnold said softly, scanning the poem once more and reading it to himself. "And it's good. _Really_ good."

"I'm not really into that mushy stuff myself," Gerald shrugged, "But I guess it makes a pretty good read. …did you get anything for Valentine's day, though?"

"Well, Rhonda passed out those cookies and Lila made cupcakes…"

Gerald rolled his eyes. "I mean something someone made just for you. Or bought just for you…Phoebe gave me some chocolates," He patted his stomach. "They were pretty good, too. Now, what did you get?"

"Umm…I got a valentine's card from all the girls in class…"

"Who give one to every guy, because it's mandatory. C'mon, Arnold, didn't anyone get you anything that's just yours?"

"Not unless you count Grandma handing me some macaroni when I got home…without a bowl or plate…"

Gerald considered. "Nah, doesn't count."

"Didn't think it would," Arnold admitted. "No girl's really tried to do anything with or for me on Valentine's day since…"

"Here we go again," Gerald rolled his eyes, his voice taking on a dream-like quality as he imitated Arnold, "Not since Cecile…only she wasn't really Cecile, and I'll never know who she really was, but that was one of the best nights I ever had."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah. You know I'm just messing with you, man."

"Yeah, I know. But still…I wish I knew who she was."

"You know what I think? I think you get hung up on certain girls too easily. Lately you spend all your time worrying about Helga and what to do there, you spent …it felt like _years _on Lila and a pretty long time on Ruth. And nothing came out of those two. And who knows what'll come out of this Helga thing?"

"Well, not really nothing. Grandpa says those are learning experiences."

"I guess. Hey, you want to go down to Gerald's field for some baseball? I think everybody else is gonna be there."

"No thanks," Arnold shook his head. "I wanna clear my head a bit."

"Suit yourself, Arnold. I'll see you around, okay?" Arnold nodded, and waved as his friend exited the room.

When he was certain he was alone, he allowed his thoughts to drift lazily back to Helga. He'd imagined some scenes with her…dinner together, movies…and while they always started out pleasant, it would end with them bumping into someone and her suddenly jerking back to how she often acted, belittling him and calling him names.

It never occurred to Arnold that he might be wrong about the reasons behind her aggression…

* * *

"I'm tellin' ya, Pheebs, it was a disaster," Helga flopped onto her bed as Phoebe took a seat at Helga's desk. "He was being nice, he gave me a _Valentine_…and what do I do? The minute someone comes by I call him 'football head' again. What is wrong with me?"

"Well, I--"

"Rhetorical," Helga snorted.

"Oh, sorry," Phoebe chuckled. "But surely this means Arnold feels the same…so you don't have to be quite so defensive anymore?"

"That's just it. He doesn't know how he feels. I poured out my heart and soul and now he's all confused," she grabbed a nearby pillow and proceeded to strangle it. "And now I remember why I never planned to tell him in the first place. Criminy, I wish I had a time machine…"

"Have you tried just being nice to him?"

"Of course I have," Helga insisted. "I always _try_, and then I always blow it. Every. Single. Time," she accentuated each word with a punch to her pillow. "I realize my dream of telling him how I feel and then I can't even be nice when there's no secret to protect…"

"Is it because he didn't accept it right away?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think you're upset because he didn't return your admirations immediately and you're left wondering what's going to happen, and how he feels, when he knows exactly how you did?"

"Sometimes, Pheebs, you hit the nail right on the head," Helga sighed. "But what am I supposed to do? There's like something wrong with my brain and it's just programmed into me to call him football head…yutz…hairboy…"

"Also Arnold-o, Geek Bait --"

"Not helping, Pheebs. Stop listing."

"Stopping!"

"I need to get my mind off this for a while, do something …productive…"

"We could head down to Gerald's field. I believe there's supposed to be a game today. You could always watch with me if you don't feel like playing."

"Nah. You go ahead, Pheebs. I'll stay here."

"All right, Helga," Phoebe shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you around."

"All right. Something…productive…" Helga bounded to her feet and began to pace the length of her room. "Don't think about Arnold…don't think about Arnold…don't think about Arnold…" She hoped that it might keep her mind off him for at least a moment, but then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Arnold!" Well, _that _plan was shot. "Did you…did you need something?"

"No, I…" Helga couldn't see him, of course, but Arnold was tugging at his shirt collar quite nervously. His plan had just been to call and talk to her, hope that maybe over the phone it might be easier to sort everything out, but the realization suddenly hit him that he was taking the coward's way out, and that it probably wouldn't work anyways. "Would you like to come over?"

"To your place?"

"Yeah. My grandma's making corned beef…she thinks it's St. Patrick's day. She always makes too much, and I thought you might wanna come over for dinner. Plus I could use some help with the English homework, and I know you're good at that."

"Yeah, sure," Helga agreed. She had to slap her hand over her mouth and force back the insult that attempted to rise out of her.

"Great. I'll see you in…an hour, then?"

Helga nodded even though he couldn't see her, too concerned with keeping the insults from slipping out.

"Helga? You are coming, right?"

"Yeah…see you then, bye." she slammed the phone down on the receiver before she could say anything hurtful. "What is _wrong _with me?" she asked again. She pulled the heart-shaped locket from the front of her dress, staring at the picture of Arnold inside. "Oh, Arnold…you have invited me to see you, on Valentine's day, the most romantic day of the year…would only that you knew how you felt! That you really want me over to tell me you care for me, love me as much as I love you, that you understand how I've pined, how I've longed for you, how I've --"

"Hey, Helga, you wanna keep it down in there, I'm watching tv!" Bob yelled from downstairs.

"Yeah, yeah, Bob, I'll keep it down, keep your shirt on!" she screamed back. She pocketed her locket, then set about getting ready…she only opted to straighten her bow and spritz a tiny bit of the perfume Olga had sent her for her birthday, then she headed for the door. "I'm leaving, I'll be back tonight," she called back. "Not that anyone cares…"

"Geez, Olga, how many times do I have to tell you to stop talking while I'm watching my shows?" Bob snapped.

"It's _Helga_, Dad. _Helga_…" The correction was instinct, but she felt much happier responding to it today than she could ever remember. She slammed the door shut behind her, and headed for Arnold's house.


	3. Sunset Arms

**Author's Note: **Eep! Sorry I took awhile to update. I have a lot of stories I work on, and I try to juggle them, but eventually the ones I find most interesting always wind up taking priority (this is one of the interesting projects to me…the problem is I always want to start new projects before I finish old ones. I need a secretary, or at least someone to scream at me and tell me to finish what I've started before I start new projects….) Thanks to all of those who have reviewed so far, I plan on sending each of you a personal response within the next few days. Please be patient with me! Thank you very much for not complaining in any replies, and a special thanks to whomever it was over on deviantart who specifically asked for this to update.

Helga stood at the door to the Sunset Arms, trying to steal her nerves. "You can do this, Helga," she tried to pep-talk herself. "Just go right in there, and be nice. All you have to do is help him with his English homework and eat dinner with him. That's really not that hard…I can do this…"

She took a deep breath.

"I can't do this," she decided, turning around. But before she'd even made it off the steps, the door opened. A wave of animals rushed out at her, knocking her off balance.

"Why, Eleanor! Is that you?" Arnold's grandmother stood in the doorframe, watching Helga intently. She didn't wait for a response. "Well of course it is! Get in here, Franky's waitin' for you!" Before Helga could object, Gertie had seized her by the arm and practically dragged her inside.

"Pookie, is that you?" Arnold's grandfather poked his head out from around the corner. "Oh, if it isn't the little mean girl Arnold's friends with! Did you come over to see him?"

Helga nodded weakly, staring over his shoulder, praying for an exit. She'd never really had to talk to the pair on her own before, and it was making her nervous. "Look, if he's not here, maybe I should just come back later…"

"Now don't be silly!" Phil insisted. "Arnold's just up in his room. You can go right up and see him, you remember where it is, right?" Helga coughed awkwardly. She'd hoped they'd forgotten she'd been there before, especially given the circumstances of that visit.

"That's right, Franky told me you'd be here for dinner. Which is just wonderful, Eleanor, we'll catch up then. But now I'm sure you want to see him," Gertie gave her a gentle push towards the stairs. "Go tell him dinner's at the usual time…and I won't make him wear the hat if he's _that _against it."

Helga mouthed the word "hat" at Phil, who shrugged. "It's best just to go along with it. Safter that way, trust me. Now go on, Shortman's waiting for you."

Feeling there was no way to back out now, Helga made her way up the stairs to Arnold's room. She took each step as slowly as she could, her eyes never glancing up from the floor. Which of course meant that she didn't see Arnold coming. Like so many times before, when she reached the top of the stairs the two collided with one another. He reacted fast enough to grab her wrist and pull her forward so that she wouldn't fall down the stairs, but it also made her fall right on top of him.

"Umm…thanks," Helga said, rising to her feet and brushing herself off. She extended her hand to Arnold, and helped him up. "But if you would have watched where you're going, it wouldn't have happ--" she slapped both hands over her mouth, and then started to bang her head against a nearby wall. Arnold grabbed her and pulled her back.

"It's all right, Helga," He chuckled. "I'm kinda used to it. My room's down the hall, we can go work there."

"Hey, Arnold, you look very cute with your little sweetheart!" Oskar called out, poking his head out of the room.

Arnold ignored him, but Helga made a fist at the older man, who merely shrugged. "Oskar, stop teasing Arnold and come help me!" Susie appeared at the door and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Sorry about that," Arnold apologized. Neither he nor Helga was making eye contact. Both studied the floor as they walked along, unsure what to do with the situation. He opened the door to his room and motioned for her to go in, but he didn't shut the door behind them.

"All right, buck-o, what's your problem with the English homework?" Without the prying eyes, Helga felt a bit more relaxed, but just barely.

The mention of homework allowed Arnold to focus on something other than the proverbial elephant in the room. He was glad of the distraction, and eagerly took his notebook out, setting it on the desk. "It's just this labeling thing…you know, sentence structures. I was wondering if you could double check it for me?"

Helga glanced over the paper he handed her, and shook her head. "The only mistake you made was you identified this word," she pointed at the paper, "as an adjective. It's an adverb."

"Oh, right…thanks, Helga."

"Is that all, Football Head?" Helga asked, resting her head in the palm of her hand and studying him. "You made it sound like there was a lot more."

"Well…no. Plus there's dinner."

"True," Helga agreed.

"Hey, Helga…about those poems you write…"

Her eyes narrowed. "What about them?"

"I was just wondering…would you let me see some of them?"

"No," she shook her head. "No way."

"All right. So…how long do they take?"

"Why are you so hung up on this?"

"I dunno," Arnold admitted, rolling his pencil against his thumb and index finger, thinking. "I was just watching you on the bus, and it seemed like it all came to you so naturally…"

"_Filling books of poetry about you!"_

The words from the Fti incident echoed in Arnold's head. "I was just wondering where it all came from."

"That, _Arnoldo_, is personal. So back off."

"You know, you don't have to be so defensive all the time. We're at least friends, aren't we?"

She considered. "I don't know…"

"C'mon, Helga. I know you're a nicer person than you act like. The secret's out, you may as well be upfront about it."

"Secret?" Helga tensed. Arnold realized what she thought he'd meant and quickly backpedaled.

"I meant about you being nice!" he clarified, almost desperately. "That you're not as mean as you pretend to be. That you're actually a really caring person, deep down. You just need to show it more."

"Why do you always think that?" Helga's voice had grown soft. She fiddled with Arnold's alarm clock rather than look at him. "You've always insisted I'm this nice person, no matter how mean or awful I am to you. Why?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I was right. With what you did to save the neighborhood, Helga…no mean person would have done that."

"Arnold, I--"

"All right, Mr. President sir, you and Eleanor need to come down for dinner!" Gertie interrupted whatever Helga had been about to say. "I hope you brought your appetite, Eleanor!"

"Helga, what were you about to say?" Arnold asked when his grandma had left the room.

"Just that…I…I…"

"Shortman, where are you? If you don't get down here we're gonna let Oskar eat yours and your little friend's share!" Phil called up.

"Coming, grandpa!" Arnold called after him. "I guess we should head to dinner. They'll just keep calling after us until we go down."

"Okay."

"Promise me something?"

"What?" Hela looked at him suspiciously. She knew Arnold well enough to know it wouldn't be something awful, but she was still worried. What kind of promise did he expect her to make?

Arnold shoved his hands into his pockets. "I want to know what you were about to say. Tell me after dinner?"

Helga sighed. "We'll see, Football Head."


	4. Dinner

**Author's Note: **Sorry! Life's been hectic, I still plan on finishing this story!

Helga followed Arnold downstairs, but when she reached the bottom her grip tightened around the handrail as a horrible stench hit her nose. "What _is _that?"

"The cabbage," Arnold explained.

"You always know when it's Valentine's day by that horrible smell," Ernie said. He and Mr. Hyunh were headed for the dining room, where Oskar, Suzie, Grandma and Grandpa already were. "Hey, Arnold, who's your little friend?"

"Perhaps it is his girlfriend!" Mr. Hyunh suggested. "I recognize you, you play Juliet at school play!" Helga gave an abrupt nod, not certain if it was a question or statement. "Yes, you were good. I was better."

She blinked at that and exchanged looks with Arnold. "You don't want to know," Arnold muttered, leading the way to the dining room. He pulled her chair back for her, but she didn't realize he'd done it out of courtesy and instead plopped down in the seat beside it. Arnold shrugged it off and sat down in the chair he'd originally intended for her.

"Hello there, Eleanor," Gertie set the plates of food down in the center of the table then sat down. "Remember to eat to keep your strength up. Not every day your husband becomes president of the United States!"

"Pookie," Phil said, shaking his head, "The President doesn't go into office on Valentine's day!"

"Well of course not," Gertie laughed him off, "Today's St. Patrick's day, the day the President goes to office and delivers Easter eggs to all the good little boys and girls!"

"Eww, what is this, it's slimy!" Oskar complained, even as he gave himself a second heaping spoon of the boiled cabbage. "It smells kind of funny eh heh heh…"

"Eh, but at least the corned beef ain't half bad," Ernie offered. "Hey, Arnold, why aren't you and your little girlfriend talking?"

"Girlfriend?" Helga repeated blankly. Her mind immediately flashed to Arnold asking her out, her gracefully accepting, then completing school together, going to college together, one day being married and then --

"Helga? Helga? Helga!"

She blinked as Arnold's voice brought her back down to Earth. "What?" She snapped.

"You looked kind of far off, and you started muttering 'yes, yes, a thousand times yes'…" Arnold coughed awkwardly. "You seemed pretty happy, but it kind of worried me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, and I don't need a football headed dork like you watching out for me," Helga snorted, stabbing her fork into her corned beef and biting off a huge chunk. She chewed viciously, glaring at Arnold. _Oh, my beloved. Why can't I simply be nice to you, even when you have been so kind as to invite me to your own home, with your charming if somewhat unusual boardinghouse 'family'. _She thought to herself desperately. She didn't notice Phil studying her.

"Got yourself a feisty one there, eh, Arnold?" Ernie said appreciatively. "There you go, none of those frilly girls for you. Good choice, kid!"

"Ernie, I don't know if you should be teasing him like that," Susie pointed out before turning her attention to her husband. "Oskar, finish the food on your own plate before you start stealing mine!"

"That's right you no good lay about!" Phil threw a spoon at Oskar, which hit him on the head. "Serves you right!"

"Oh, Arnold, when did you get here?" Gertie exclaimed.

"I've been here, Grandma," Arnold said, his tone exhausted. Between the way the boarders and Helga were behaving, he felt like this was going to be a long night. He'd really hoped to make some headway, sort through exactly what he felt when it came to Helga, but it certainly seemed at this moment like she'd always try to be his enemy. He shook his head. No, upstairs in his room just a bit ago she'd been…well, not exactly friendly, but she hadn't been hostile. It had been kind of nice, in fact.

Arnold was determined to see more of that side of her. He'd known it was there all along, even when others told him he was crazy. Now that she'd really revealed it, he couldn't resist probing to get to know that side better.

"Are you coming to the egg hunt afterwards?" Gertie asked Arnold. He shook his head.

"No thanks, grandma. Helga and I have some uh…stuff we need to finish."

"Stuff, eh, Shortman?" Phil repeated, chuckling. "You hear that Pookie, he and his little friend are gonna go spend time together alone. On Valentine's Day."

"I thought it was President's Day?" Gertie frowned. "What am I doing with all these eggs, then? There's still a few months until Boxing Day!"

"Pookie, you're crazy."

If it phased her at all, she certainly wasn't showing it. Gertie merely retreated to the kitchen with her basket of eggs, singing "Peter Cottontail" under her breath.

"May we be excused? That is, if you're done eating, Helga?" Arnold asked. He was certainly ready to get away from the insanity.

Helga had finished her corned beef, but she eyed the glob of cabbage there warily. She knew it was bad manners not to finish when she was a guest, but fact was, she didn't care and there was no way she was going to touch something that smelled so horrible. "Yeah, I'm done." She got up and pushed her chair in before following Arnold back to his room.

"Maybe I should go home," Helga suggested. "I mean, you invited me over for dinner, right? Well, dinner's over and I helped you with your homework…"

"I wanted to hang out a bit longer, but if you want to go it's fine," Arnold said, but his tone sounded so hopeful Helga couldn't bring herself to leave.

"I guess I can spare you a few minutes more of my valuable time. But you owe me one, football head."

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold smirked.

They spent the next few hours watching wrestling, though they talked during the program. Helga knew a lot about the topic, and Arnold found that he admired a girl knowing so much about what was often stigmatized as a 'boys' only' activity. She did impressions of her least favorite wrestlers during the breaks, prancing around and putting a girlish twist on their normal tough guy personas.

"You're really funny sometimes, Helga."

"Umm…thanks."

"At least, when I'm not the butt of your jokes," he added. She rolled her eyes, but she was delighted to see that he was smiling.

"Stop making it so easy and I'll stop ribbing you so much, Football Head."

"I've got a feeling there's nothing I really can do to stop it," Arnold admitted. "Especially since there's no way to fix the shape of my head."

"True," Helga nodded. "So I guess I'll be teasing you about that for forever. That and that stupid kilt you wear," she indicated what in truth was Arnold's shirt tails. She looked him over. The only other thing to really tease was his hat, but knowing the origins of it she couldn't bring herself to do it. Sure, she'd tease about how he wore it slightly to the side rather than in the middle, but never the hat itself.

"It's my shirt tail," Arnold crossed his arms. "How many times do I have to explain that to people? That and that I really do have a last name, it's --"

"Hey, you two doing all right up here?" Phil interrupted, a plate of cookies in his hand. "It's getting pretty late, what time are your parents pickin' you up?"

Helga shook her head. "They're not. I'm gonna walk home. Bob's too busy watching 'The Wheel' to pay attention to anything else and Miriam's probably already had her last 'smoothie' for the night, so she'll be uh…out of commission."

"Well, you can stay as late as you'd like," Phil offered, setting the cookies down in front of the kids. "I'll take you home in the Packard when you and Arnold are done, isn't that right, Shortman?"

Arnold nodded. "We really can't let you walk home alone. It's dangerous out there." Helga shrugged.

"I do it all the time. It's no big deal, really."

Phil looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he walked off, though Arnold and Helga both heard him muttering something about 'that stupid blowhard Pataki' under his breath.

"Helga, what were you going to say earlier? Before dinner?"

Helga coughed. She didn't want to be put on the spot like this, and she'd planned on making some lame excuse up, but all the insanity at dinner had pushed those thoughts from her mind. "Just that uh…" she glanced around his room, her eyes landing on a model plane. "Uh…I wanted to see if you wanted to fly airplanes sometime?" she tried.

"I know you're lying, Helga. What is it really?"

"Just that I…I…" she twisted the skirt of her dress. "It's nothing."

"Could you at least answer a question for me?" He suggested. "Now that I uh…well, that is, the thing that happened on the FTI building…now that I know why you were acting that way, why do you keep doing it?"

"Because it's a habit?"

"Helga."

She refused to make eye contact as she casted around for excuses, each one more lame than the last. "I thought you'd get confused if I didn't. Or…or I don't really feel that way, it was all just a big joke. Funny, huh?" she laughed weakly.

"Helga, please. The truth."

"Because you never answered me!" She finally broke. Arnold gave her a questioning look, and she continued, standing up and pacing, throwing her hands around violently as she ranted. "I told you how I felt and you did _nothing_! You wanted to pretend like it never happened, so I started acting how I did before it happened. But it _did _happen. You know it, I know it, and in that thick football headed skull of yours you still remembered it, but you didn't treat me any differently. I mean, criminy, even avoiding me would have worked, but no, you just acted the exact same as you always do towards me and it was driving me _crazy_!" She had him by the shoulders and was shaking him before she knew what was happening. When she came to her senses, she released him. "I should go."

"I'll go with you --"

"I'd rather be alone right now, Arnold," she sighed. "Thanks for having me over. I guess we'll just pretend _this _never happened, either." She walked out of the room, and intended to walk out the door, but Phil caught up to her.

"Let's get you home." He didn't make any other comments. It was clear to him something had upset her in Arnold's room. He waited until they were alone in the Packard to try to find out details. "So uh…you and Shortman have a good time?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, gramps," she said, shrugging.

"No little fights, then?"

Helga ignored him. Phil was concerned, but he opted not to push. He actually was rather fond of Helga, and he didn't want to be the one to push her away from his grandson. "Well, here we are…"

"Yeah. Thanks," Helga slid off the seat and headed inside.

When Phil got home, he headed straight for Arnold's room. Just as he'd thought, Arnold was dressed for bed, but was still up, sitting in his bed with his knees up near his chest, thinking. "Hello, Arnold. One of your troubling boyhood problems with certain angry little girls on your mind?" Arnold nodded. "You didn't realize you'd never told her how you'd felt and that even if you'd have properly turned her down that would have hurt her less than making her wait?" Arnold nodded again.

"What do I do, Grandpa?"

"Well, dang if I know."

Arnold frowned. Phil scratched his head. "Well, it seems to me that you've gotta find some way to make it up to her, and that way is to tell her how you do feel."

"But I don't know how I feel!" Arnold protested.

"Deep down, I think you do," Phil insisted, touching Arnold's chest right where his heart was beating. "Answer's in there, Shortman, if you're finally ready to face it. Well, goodnight. Just one last piece of advice."

"Yeah, Grandpa?"

"Never eat raspberries. Oof!"


	5. Loose Ends

**Author's note: **Sorry this took so long. Full time job, 1 year old kid and trying to get my social life back meant updates had to go on pause for a bit, but here we are with the final chapter!

"I'm not saying that it won't work," Gerald stirred his cup of hot cocoa and shrugged his shoulder up so high that the phone was pressed firmly against his ear, "I'm just saying that it's crazy."

"I've gotta do something, Gerald. She's not going to talk to me if things stay the way they are."

"Would that really be a bad thing?" Gerald asked, taking a sip of his cocoa. He could hear the frown in Arnold's voice.

"Yes, it would be a bad thing. I'm going for it, Gerald. It's only fair, right?"

"Or you'll embarrass her so badly she'll forget she ever liked you and kill you. I mean, this _is _Helga Pataki we're talking about.

"This'll work. Trust me."

"You are one bold kid, Arnold. One very bold, possibly dead soon, kid. …Can I have your stereo? You know, if she does kill you."

"Goodnight, Gerald."

* * *

"So I hope you kids all had fun with your poetry assignment. I'm sure they were all just so extra special!" Mr. Simmons said cheerfully, bouncing on his heels as he spoke. "Do we have any volunteers to read their poetry?" No one had ever come forward on his request before, so he'd already turned around to collect the papers and didn't notice Arnold's hand shoot up.

"Mr. Simmons?" Arnold let out a small cough to alert the teacher.

"Yes, Arnold? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No. I'd like to read my poem."

"Oh…wonderful! Class, let's everyone be quiet so Arnold can read his poem. I'm sure it's just great, Arnold," Mr. Simmons scrambled back for his desk, plopping down in his chair with the excitement etched onto his face. He was always thrilled when his students enjoyed an assignment.

Arnold got up and stood in front of the blackboard, trying not to feel nervous. He glanced at Helga, but suddenly felt too embarrassed to keep looking at her. Her one eyebrow shot up when he looked away. "He's up to something," she thought aloud, but she leaned forward to listen anyways.

"My poem is for someone I know who uh…well…" Arnold tugged at his shirt sleeve nervously, "It's just a poem I wrote for someone I know."

_This is something I may have known along -_

_Forgive me if this is late,_

_Please don't blame me for taking so long._

_I know now what it is that I want,_

_I believe what you want is the same._

_I was scared of how certain you were,_

_Yet I realize you were right to be._

_You've always been there for me,_

_And sometimes without so much as a thank you._

_You try to hide your true self away,_

_But you've failed, and I've seen her -_

_Seen past the front you put on,_

_And now I've only one last thing to say:_

Arnold paused and looked up from the paper. Gerald had accused him time and time again of being a bold kid, and he was about to prove him right. He met Helga's gaze and held it there for a moment. "Helga…I _like _you like you."

Helga fell out of her desk and Arnold felt the color rise to his cheeks. There were a couple of snickers about the room, but several more of the kids were leaned forward in their desks, eyes focused on Helga, waiting for her to answer Arnold. When she felt their gaze on her, she picked herself off the floor and gave a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, _real_ funny, Football Head," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Oh puh-lease," Rhonda crossed her arms. "We all know you like him." Helga stared at her.

"You…know?" she repeated blankly.

"Well, yeah," Eugene seconded. "That's why you're always so mean to him, right?"

"You're always managing to get partnered with him for projects," Sheena pointed out.

"Yeah, even _I _knew you like him," Harold pointed out.

"Right, and Harold's dumb as a rock!" Rhonda said.

"Hey!" he snapped at her.

"Point is, Helga, I'm ever so certain the only one who didn't realize it was Arnold himself," Lila shrugged. "So there's really no point in hiding it anymore."

"So, wait, I was the only one who didn't know?" Arnold repeated.

"Class, perhaps we should let Arnold and Helga talk this out in their own time?" Mr. Simmons suggested. "After all, we do have a lesson to finish, and I'm certain they don't want to talk about this in front of all of us…"

"I reckon this is more interesting than the lesson, Mr. Simmons," Stinky pointed out.

"Helga, Arnold…it would seem the class is out of paper towels. Would you mind grabbing us some more?" Mr. Simmons asked.

"But we have plenty," Arnold said, pointing towards the table in the back.

"We may do an art project later. Please, just go grab the paper towels," Mr. Simmons made eye contact with Arnold, and he suddenly realized the teacher's intentions. He was giving the kids a chance to talk it over without having to worry about their classmates butting in. Helga got up from her desk, her arms folded as she huffed her way out of the room. Arnold followed her and muttered a thank you in Mr. Simmons' direction.

Once they were out of ear shot of the classroom, Helga pushed Arnold against a locker. "What _was_ that? Did you really think it was a good idea to embarrass me like this?"

"Sorry, guess I didn't think it through all the way," Arnold apologized. "I just wanted you to know how I feel and that …that I really want to be with you. I'm sorry it took as long as it did."

Helga sighed, fighting off the instinct to slap herself. _Why can't I ever stay mad at this football-headed doofus? _she silently lamented. "I guess it's all right. The poem was kind of mushy, though."

"So…what do we do from here?" Arnold asked.

It was another twenty minutes before the pair made it back to class. Between talking, a kiss Helga had managed to sneak from him seconds before Principal Wartz rounded the corner and nearly caught them, and hand holding they hadn't realized how much time it had been.

After class that day, right after the students exited, Principal Wartz entered the classroom. "Mr. Simmons, I noticed Miss Pataki and Arnold holding hands in the hallway…and I think I may have caught them kissing earlier, but she insisted that she thought he was choking and was administering mouth-to-mouth," He left out the part where she'd threatened to reveal his love of flamenco dancing if she got in any trouble for this, "Are the increased PDAs a sign of something?"

"I know public displays of affection are against school policy, Principal Wartz, but it's they're such special kids and it seems they're dating now and --"

"Those two are dating?"

"So it would seem -"

"It's about time." With no further comment, the elderly man left Mr. Simmons alone. He contemplated for a short moment, before nodding his agreement.

Once Arnold had come to terms with his feelings, the last puzzle piece had easily slid into place. Something about those two being together made Mr. Simmons feel like things had worked out exactly as they were supposed to. "Well…I'm looking forward to what type of poetry Helga writes now that she has what she's always wanted," he said, glancing fondly at the stack of poems she'd written that still occupied his desk. With that, he turned the light off to his class room. "To think, I thought those two might never get together," he commented, before closing the door.

**The End**


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